Test of Metal
by Mirrored Realities
Summary: "You're going to be a great hero some day." That is what the doctors had told him when his Quirk was officially diagnosed. For most, it is a simple throw away line used as common courtesy. Mainly to make them feel better if their Quirk was less spectacular than others. Izuku Midoriya, however, is not most. For Izuku, it was a promise.


"You're going to be a great hero some day."

That is what the doctors had told him when his Quirk was officially diagnosed. For most, it is a simple throw away line used as common courtesy. Mainly to make them feel better if their Quirk was less spectacular than others.

Izuku Midoriya, however, is not most. When he was told he'd be a great hero, it wasn't just to give him hope for some unattainable dream, or an utterance formed from a doctor's verbal habits.

For Izuku, it was a promise.

* * *

"Hey Midoriya-san! We're heading to the arcade, want to join us?"

"No thanks guys, Sensei'll kill me if I miss class."

Izuku's response doesn't surprise the other students. They knew well before that brief interaction that their asking would be more a formality then an actual request. They say their goodbyes and left him to gather his things alone.

He doesn't like how easily they buy into his lie, or how good he's become at making them. In reality, Izuku doesn't go to any extra classes. He just says he goes to a dojo whenever people became too much for him.

But he can't tell them that. What kind of hero would he be if he couldn't handle a little social interaction? So instead he says he's going to a dojo that "Specializes in unusual Quirks." This way he can tell whoever who wants to join that they didn't have the right Quirks for it, and then he the rumor of the nightmarish sensei who runs it to keep away the ones who do.

As he leaves, his teacher stops him to hand back his test.

"Another perfect score," the teacher says, "Feels kind of redundant grading it like it would be any different, at this point."

"Wouldn't that make things too easy, sensei?" Izuku jokes, his arm twisting into several cables that slid a paper into his bag behind him.

His teacher chuckles at the remark. "Well, have a good summer, Midoriya-kun. And hey, you'll remember me when you become a big shot hero, right?"

Izuku hardens his face to keep his grin from falling off; a hero should always smile after all.

"Of course!" He leaves after that, making his way to the only place that could be used as training.

It takes him a little under half an hour to get to Dagobah by train, and another ten to get everything set up.

There was a year until the U.A. entrance exam. Last year, there was only a twenty percent acceptance rate for the written half alone. Out of the five thousand students who applied for the hero course last year, only forty made it. A measly point eight percent acceptance rate that was further compounded by half of them being expelled before the first semester was out. The thought of him only having one year to prepare such a life changing test pushed him to work day and night to ensure he'd pass.

But he was not taking the entrance exam.

"We'd like to put you up for recommendations."

Eight words and the careful balance he'd made in preparation for the exam had shattered. Eight simple words that replayed in his head, over and over like a mantra, taunting him for how quickly he'd accepted it. As if he was anywhere near deserving of such an amazing offer.

He stood in a small clearing, his arms unraveling into a cloud of swaying wires that ended in cruel barbs. Faster than the eye could see, they scorched off into the jungle of trash, their targets a few dozen soda cans he had collected from the school recycling bin.

"You're easily within the top percentages in terms of grades, and, with your Quirk, you could easily get nominated for the recommendations exam."

With that, his time for preparations had been cut in half. Izuku's confidence in making it in, however non-existent it might have been, had been reduced to a dissonance of doubts and regrets that forced his daily retreats to this beach.

Izuku had, of course, said yes. Because why wouldn't he? Heroes don't back down from a challenge! They face them head on with a smile, laughing in the face of danger!

The spikes pulled back, maneuvering their quarry around the rubble that had been skewered in pursuit of them. They are set in the sand in rows, the only evidence of his assault being a few quarter sized dents from where they were carried.

It's not good enough.

Izuku threw them back into the rusted maze, listening for the resounding clang of them landing.

Already he felt pain flaring from deep within his core. He ignored it though, this was too important to stop because of a little soreness.

In one week, he took the test. One week before he went up against the best of the best to take one of the meager six recommendation spots available.

The cans were pulled back and Izuku noticed the previous divots were now reduced to the size of nickels.

It's not good enough.

He moved on to speed next, because, what use was precision if he couldn't get there in time?

White hot agony laced through him as he moved through the trash piles, his body twisting and reshaping itself to allow him a straight path. He kept going, though. There was only a week left to prepare, and he was nowhere near good enough to pass the test.

And I never will be

He was practically sprinting across the beach by the time the sun set, a nebulous mass of iron that passed through the gaps like water. The pain was blinding at this point, but his eyes weren't currently formed, so it wasn't a problem.

Izuku only stopped at the chime of his phone, signaling his curfew. By then, he could barely keep a recognizable form, having to harden his entire body to keep himself from melting there on the beach.

Finally, miraculously, he made it home. Even more astounding was his mother's absence from the home, a note in her hand writing confirming it.

He skips the dinner that the note says is waiting for him in the fridge, instead choosing to collapse into his bed. He'll eat in the morning, he tells himself.

He doesn't.

* * *

My Quirk

**Quirk Name:** Full Metal

**Synopsis:** Full Metal is a amorphous mutant type quirk that causes the wielders body to be made entirely out of metal. In my case, I am made entirely out of iron. This Quirk also allows the user to mold their body in numerous different ways, and, with enough precision, into specific items.

Their body is not naturally hard, like metal. Stiffening their body, as one would do with a muscle, allows them to gain that level of durability. They are unable to move the section(s) of their body that are hardened.

Maintaining a certain shape or hardness for a prolonged period will result in a pain for the user. This is most likely a result of the mental strain needed to maintain these forms, and would result in a migraine in normal people. As amorphous Quirks often render their wielders without organs, however, the pain is projected throughout the whole body.

**Addendum:** I have found the easiest forms to maintain often involve the vast majority of the effected area being made out of wires or things of a similar fashion. Further studies can be found in **Study Log 1**.


End file.
